greensleeves.

March 21, 2015

You look for me,
in all of them,
don’t you?
In the curve of her
little finger
around a teacup,
or shotglass.
In the crease of her
curious brow,
in the cusp of her
collarbones.
You will long to
hear Greensleeves
humming from
the bathtub,
only to find her
wet and wanting,
won’t you?